


Greenacres

by siriusblue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dogs, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: To ease his loneliness after the divorce, Greg volunteers at a dog rescue charity. Imagine his surprise when he finds out who one of the charity's mystery benefactors is. Who knew Mycroft Holmes was a dog person?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 25
Kudos: 207
Collections: Rupert Graves Birthday Collection 2020





	1. Chapter One.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/gifts), [egmon73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/gifts).



> Written for the eternally-patient Black_Dawn and Egmon73 with all the love in the world. I hope you like it

Greg finished his report and emailed it to the Detective Superintendent. He turned off his computer and stretched out the crick in his neck, running his fingers through his hair. 

It was always good to put a case to bed but there was no satisfaction in this one, no clever detective work needed when the guilty party was standing over the victim with a cricket bat screaming about how the victim shouldn't have said that about his mother.

It would never get to court, there was that to be thankful for. The victim would live, even with multiple stitches, and the perpetrator would get the psychiatric help he so desperately needed.

Pleased to be finished early for once, Greg went into the locker room and changed out of his suit and tie and into a polo shirt and jeans, swapping his formal shoes for trainers. He got into his car and headed for the M25.

It wasn't a long journey and he pulled into the car park of a long, low building that had started life as a piggery but now housed something quite different.

In the reception area the manager was chatting to a prosperous older couple. Greg held back until they had finished talking and left before approaching the slightly frazzled older woman.

"Hi, Diana." Greg said, smiling.

"Greg! How marvellous. I wasn't expecting you today." She looked delighted to see him.

"Got finished early. I didn't fancy another night in front of the telly so I thought I'd drop by. See if you needed a hand with anything."

"Always. It looks as if Sophie has found a forever home at last."

"Brilliant!" Greg replied with a smile. "That couple that just left?"

"Yes. Lovely house and a big garden for her to run around in, a big Aga to sleep beside. Heaven."

"Are they adopting humans too?" Greg asked wistfully. Diana laughed and patted him on the arm.

Greenacres was a dog rescue charity that Diana had set up years ago. Greg had met her in his professional life when she had been a witness to a particularly nasty mugging and she had mentioned the work she did and, casually, the difficulty she had finding volunteers to help with the animals. No dog was ever put down at Greenacres unless it was unavoidable and Diana worked tirelessly to find all her charges forever homes.

When his marriage ended and nights at the pub weren't enough to cure his crushing loneliness, Greg phoned Diana and offered his services. He'd always loved dogs but hadn't the time to look after one of his own. Instead he'd opened his heart to the motley crew of Greenacres and had found unconditional love, dog hair and slobbery kisses in abundance.

Wherever the job was proving too much or his soon-to-be ex-wife's demands were getting more outrageous, he'd come here to decompress. Walk a new friend for a few miles or clean out the kennels. It all helped. 

"You might be able to help with a new arrival," said Diana. "He's a stray. Dog warden brought him here rather than taking him to the police kennels. He looks like he's been on the streets for a while, poor thing. Vet is coming tomorrow to check him over but he's completely shut down. He's not eating or drinking and he just cowers away any time anyone goes near him. Maybe he'll respond better to a man."

"I'll give it a try," said Greg.

  
  


He followed her into the kennel area which was warm and brightly lit. The noise was ear-splitting as it always was whenever someone walked in. Diana gestured at Greg to follow her as she made her way to a kennel at the very end of the row.

"He's in there," she yelled and Greg nodded, unlatching the door and slipping inside.

In the farthest corner, away from the door, light and noise was a curled up dog with a dark brindled coat. Greg walked closer then knelt down and extended his hand for the dog to sniff. No reaction other than the fear that was already there in his big brown eyes.

"Hey. My name's Greg. You're a lucky boy, you know. Got one of the best rooms in the place. Old Jimmy next door doesn't make a lot of noise usually, so you should be able to get plenty of rest."

A querulous whimper was the response.

"Okay, it's fine. I'll just sit here for a while and keep you company, okay? Might read a bit of my new book. It's marvellous what you can get on your phone these days."

Greg realised that this was the longest non-work conversation he had had since the divorce and grimaced.

"Hey, maybe I could read you some of this. Do you like detective stories? He's a London cop with a thing about country music. His best mate is a gay pathologist. Hey, I know a pathologist too. Her name's Molly. You'd love her but she's more of a cat person. Okay, I'll just be quiet and read to myself. You're a very good boy for listening to me though."

Just for a second the dog's tail lifted up and gave a half-hearted wag before tucking itself back between his legs.

"Oh, okay. Someone loved you once. Called you a good boy. I don't know what happened to you, mate, but we're going to find you the best home where there will be someone to love you for the rest of your life."

Realising he was wasting his breath for the moment, Greg continued reading about Tom Thorne and only looked up when he heard his name spoken.

Diana was standing outside the kennel with a plate in her hand.

"I thought you might like something to nibble on if you've come straight from work. Just a chicken sandwich but it might tide you over till you have your dinner."

"Cheers," said Greg with a smile, standing up and taking the plate from her. "I'm starving."

Diana cut eyes towards the dog but Greg shook his head and she sighed. Greg sat back down and examined his sandwich.

Chunks of white chargrilled breast smothered in lemon mayonnaise rested on a bed of crisp lettuce and tomato, all wrapped in a sourdough ciabatta. Saying it was a chicken sandwich was like saying the Louvre had a few paintings in it.

Greg was about to tuck in when he noticed he was being watched. The dog had uncurled and his nose was twitching, all the time staring at Greg. Greg hid his grin.

"Want some chicken, mate?" Greg asked. He removed a succulent piece and licked the mayonnaise off it, holding it out in the palm of his hand.

The dog crept towards him; belly close to the floor and tail still tucked firmly between his back legs but in the blink of an eye the chicken was gone from Greg's hand and his palm was wet from being licked.

"Good lad. You must be starving." Greg looked at the dog critically. "You've been in the wars, haven't you?" 

There was a chunk missing out of the dog's half-pricked left ear and he was dreadfully thin but his tail thumped on the floor of the kennel as Greg took another piece of chicken out of the sandwich. It vanished just as quickly as the first.

"Hang on, mate." Greg said, sending a quick text requesting a bowl of dog-friendly food. While he waited, he ventured to give his new friend a scratch behind the ears.  _ Thump thump thump  _ went the dog's tail on the kennel floor.

"You're a handsome boy. Wonder what they'll call you?" Greg mused, moving on to stroking the dog's ears which the dog seemed to enjoy, judging by his half-closed eyes and lolling tongue. 

"Not that it matters because your new family will give you a new name but I'd prefer to have something to call you when I'm taking you out for a walk."

There was a rustling sound from outside and both Greg and the dog looked up from the floor at Diana who was putting some extra mixer into the dog bowl she was holding.

The end of the dog's tail vibrated briefly as he crept towards the kennel door and Greg smiled.

"Think we'll call you Russell. What do you reckon, Diana?"

"It's as good a name as any," she agreed, putting the bowl on the floor and politely ignoring Greg's groan as he got up and came out, latching the door behind him. They watched the newly-named Russell tuck into the bowlful of food then walk over to his bed where he collapsed with a martyred sigh.

"I think he'll be fine," said Diana. "We'll get him bathed and everything once the vet checks him out."

Slowly they made their way out of the kennels towards the admin building.

"It might be expensive," Greg warned her. "He's got a few broken teeth and there might be other things wrong if he's been on the streets for a while. Plus he's part staffie. They always end up being picked last."

They had reached the admin door by now. Greg stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and said.

"The Met could have another quiz night. Try and raise a few bob for this place. Remember the last one?"

"Yes, of course. Such fun! And you did raise such a lot of money. It paid the heating bill for the whole winter."

Diana looked at him seriously.

"I appreciate every single thing the volunteers do for this place. Without you and the others there wouldn't  _ be  _ a Greenacres but money is honestly not our main concern."

Greg must have looked disbelieving as she smiled.

"I know a lot of small animal charities are desperate for money all the time but we are very fortunate. We have a couple of very wealthy benefactors and their support makes sure the vet bills are paid and we can feed and give support to the dogs for as long as they're here. In fact, one of them popped in while you were with Russell. Why don't you come and say hello?"

"Anything to help," agreed Greg, wondering if he had time to comb his hair. He was used to schmoozing since his promotion, even though he hated it, but usually he looked a good deal tidier than he did now. He just hoped the benefactor was the forgiving sort.

He followed Diana into her cramped office as Diana spoke.

"Sorry to keep you, Mr Holmes. We just had a new admission and Greg here was helping him settle in."

Greg nearly swallowed his tongue. There, seated on the shabby visitors chair and looking like the most desirable man on earth, was Mycroft Holmes. The one jarring note was the large bag of dog toys that Mycroft was clinging to like a shield.

"Greg, this is…"

"Hello, Mycroft." said Greg, extending his hand. "Of all the dog shelters in all the world…"

"Most amusing, Chief Inspector." Mycroft replied. He looked composed but the tiniest tic in his left eye gave him away. Over the years Greg had become very good at reading Holmeses.

"Oh, you two know each other!" Diana exclaimed.

"Mycroft's brother consults with us sometimes." Greg lowered his hand.

"Oh yes. I remember him. Scowly fellow with a mop of dark curls. Pouted because Philip knew more about astronomy than he did."

"My dear Mrs Trescothick," said Mycroft smoothly as he got to his feet. "You described my baby brother to a T. Please accept these toys for the dogs. Unfortunately I cannot linger. Affairs of state, you understand."

"Oh yes. Of course. I know how busy you get, Mr Holmes. Always a pleasure to see you."

Mycroft turned his arctic gaze on Greg.

"If you're not too busy, Chief Inspector, could we have a word?"

"Yes. Sure." Greg stuttered, wondering if he was going to be executed for discovering Mycroft Holmes had a soft centre.

In the car park, a long black car waited with its engine running.

"Er," Greg began.

"There is a delightful pub just down the road which has an acceptable wine list. Would you care to join me...Gregory?"

It was the use of his given name that damned near deposited him in a boneless heap on the tarmac at Mycroft's feet.

"Drink? With you?" Greg squeaked.

Brilliant, he chided himself. Why do you always sound like a clodhopping yokel every time you talk to him. Maybe he  _ is  _ going to have you quietly shot. This drink is going to be the cigarette before the blindfold. Fuck it. It'll be worth it. 

Mycroft raised an elegant eyebrow but there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

"Yes. Passing a few hours with a collegial companion should not strain either of us too much. Besides, I am curious to know how you ended up here of all places."

Mycroft's chauffeur opened the door for his boss and Mycroft gracefully got it.

"The Bear and Ragged Staff. It's about two miles east of here. Don't be too long, will you?"

The door closed and within minutes the car had vanished leaving a very perplexed Greg in the car park.

One thing was certain.  _ Nothing  _ was stopping him having that drink with Mycroft. 

He'd make his apologies to Diana later.

  
  


TBC

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for how long this has taken. However it is now complete. Thanks to Egmon73 and Black_Dawn for their patience.

Greg found the pub with the aid of his sat-nav and whistled in appreciation when he got out of the car. He didn't think pubs like that existed any more outside of the imagination of romantic novelists. It was the kind of place that the heroine would be seduced by the tall, dark, handsome stranger who, after a night of torrid passion, would turn out to be her new boss. Or her child's teacher.

Cursing his secret teenage Harlequin obsession, Greg opened the door to the bar and stepped into a warm, comfortable room with good solid furniture, a crackling fire in the hearth, wood panelling on the walls and, best of all, Mycroft sitting at a table near the fire with a freshly-opened bottle of wine and two glasses.

Greg momentarily wished he'd had the chance to shower and wasn't wearing comfy clothes covered in dog hair but the way Mycroft's eyes lit up when he saw him made him realise it didn't matter.

"Good evening, Gregory. I took the liberty of ordering Rioja. I do hope that suits." Mycroft looked a bit anxious but Greg's smile made any worries he had about the advisability of suggesting they meet for a drink disappear like smoke.

"Sounds lovely. I don't know a lot about wine, to be honest." Greg admitted. "Real ale, yes. Wine, no "

"Sit down then," said Mycroft, gesturing to the comfortable wingback chair. "Let us begin your education."

Greg sat and took a sip from the proffered glass. It was rich and fruity with a tantalising hint of sweetness.

"Very nice." Greg stated, though whether he was talking about the wine or the vision of Mycroft Holmes relaxed and sipping wine in the light of the fire was debatable.

"One of my favourites." Mycroft said, leaning over to top up Greg's glass. "Spanish in origin. This is a particularly nice vintage."

"Steady," warned Greg. "I'd better not have too much or I'll have to arrest myself for drunk driving."

"Do not worry, Gregory. My driver will be more than happy to drive you home and I will ensure your car is returned to you before the morning."

Greg relaxed and held out his glass after taking a hefty swallow.

"In that case, top me up."

*

The conversation was light and frothy and Greg found he was enjoying himself enormously. Mycroft was a great raconteur with a blade-sharp wit and a gift for mimicry accurate enough to have Greg in fits of laughter.

Mycroft had just signalled for another bottle when Greg asked the question that had been niggling at him all night.

"Mycroft, I would never have taken you for a dog person. If I ever imagined you having a pet I thought it would be a cat."

"A white longhaired one, no doubt." Mycroft teased. "With a diamond collar that I stroke while plotting the downfall of certain Cabinet ministers."

"Um…" Greg didn't want to admit that was exactly how he imagined it.

Mycroft laughed. He had a rich, deep chuckle that did unmentionable things to Greg's libido.

"I'm violently allergic to cats, sadly. I find them regal, majestic animals however they send my immune system into hyper drive. Besides, our family always had dogs. I recall playing in the grounds of Musgrave with a number of canine companions. When I was judged old enough to care for a pet of my own, I was gifted with Blue."

"Blue? Unusual name. What kind of dog was it?" Greg asked.

" He was a beautiful Labrador with the sweetest temperament. My parents being what they were, the poor pup came with some ridiculous Kennel Club name which my child's mind parsed as Blue. Look,I have a picture of him on my phone."

Mycroft handed Greg a mobile that probably cost more than Greg's mortgage and he looked at the picture of a Golden Labrador with bright eyes and a laughing mouth, presumably a phone photo of an original snap.

"What a beauty," said Greg with a smile, handing the phone back.

Mycroft looked at the picture again and his expression wasn't hard to deduce. Mycroft Holmes in love was a truly beautiful sight and Greg felt a tiny thread of regret that Mycroft would probably never look at him that way.

"He lived to be eighteen, a veritable Methuselah of a dog. I was fortunate enough to be with him in his last hours. He knew he was loved. Naturally I have never had the time to have another dog but I do what I can to support the less fortunate ones. Mrs Trescothick is an old friend of Mummy's so it made perfect sense to help out her charity. So what brought you to Greenacres, Gregory?"

Greg grimaced but knew Mycroft deserved honesty, especially after such a touching revelation. He explained about meeting Diana, the loneliness post-divorce and the happiness he had found among the dogs.

"Growing up, our house was a menagerie but my ex wouldn't even contemplate having a pet. Far too houseproud. How she put up with a scruffy copper for so long beats me, to be honest. Probably why she put off having kids as well." Greg concluded bitterly.

Mycroft frowned and lightly touched Greg's hand.

"You are doing yourself a disservice. She was unfaithful, not you. Leaving your socks on the bedroom floor is no excuse for her committing adultery. You are a very fine man, Gregory. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met and your kindness to waifs and strays knows no bounds. She should have been  _ honoured  _ to have your name and wear your wedding ring."

Mycroft was blushing, his face the colour of a peony and Greg was absolutely enchanted. Tonight was gifting him with a multitude of treasures, it seemed. 

"That's very kind of you, Mycroft."

"I am not known for my kindness," Mycroft replied. "However, I am honest when I need to be and I have admired you from afar for the longest of times. Tell me, Gregory. Do you think that you might enjoy another evening of my company?"

"What, you mean like a date?"

"Yes, like a date."

"I think we can arrange that," said Greg with a smile, a world of deeper meaning showing in his dark eyes which made Mycroft's libido stand up and cheer.

"Marvellous. More wine?" Mycroft offered.

"Please. Lucky I'm off tomorrow."

"Do you have any plans?" Mycroft asked, wondering if the detective would get the rest he so obviously needed.

"I might go back to Greenacres and see how Russell is after the vet's done with him."

"Which one is Russell?" 

"New arrival. I think he likes me. He'll make a lovely companion for someone once he comes out of his shell a bit. Not unlike someone sitting not a million miles away from me," said Greg and now there was no mistaking that look in his eyes. Mycroft's newly-woken libido started turning happy cartwheels.

"Gregory Lestrade! Are you comparing me to an abandoned puppy?" said Mycroft in mock outrage.

"Yeah. Kind of. Shit, I must be getting drunk. It's just you've both got so much potential for love if you're with the right person. I would really like to be that right person. And I'm going to shut up now. Remind me again sometime how I have absolutely  _ no _ head for red wine."

Greg shook his head as if trying to physically clear his thoughts and gave Mycroft a slightly worried smile which Mycroft thought was absolutely adorable.

"Perhaps we should stick to beer next time," suggested Mycroft. "Or fine spirits."

"Sounds great. Take me home, Mycroft. Please?"

"With pleasure."

*

Greg woke the next morning face-down on top of the duvet, still fully dressed with an aching head.

"Never again," he vowed as he sat up and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

It wasn't until he was in the shower, whimpering as the water battered off his sore head, that the memories of the previous night came flooding back and made him flush with a mixture of pleasure and warm anticipation for the future.

There had been the ride home in Mycroft's incredibly luxurious car, Greg bathed in a rosy alcoholic glow and generally chatting about nothing in particular. There may have been a small interruption in his stream of consciousness as Mycroft's hand stole into his and he had felt long fingers wrap around his own and then he was home. Being brought up properly, Greg had thanked Mycroft for a very nice night and had not objected in the slightest when Mycroft, who had gone peony pink again, asked if he could kiss him.

It might have been clumsily executed but it was far and away the best kiss Greg could ever remember having in recent memory and had left him longing for more, even as he left the car and shambled up the stairs to his flat.

Realising that he couldn't think any more without stimulants Greg turned off the shower and walked naked and dripping into his kitchen to start the coffee brewing. That done, he dried and dressed himself and with the aid of paracetamol and a full pot of coffee, started to feel human again.

On the doormat lay his car keys. Mycroft had been as good as his word. Deciding that fresh air and some doggy companionship might help him make sense of things, Greg left his flat and headed for Greenacres.

Alison, the only other permanent staff member, was in the kennel kitchen dishing up breakfast for the dogs and gave Greg a warm smile.

"Hi Alison. Everyone all right this morning?" Greg asked.

"Better than you," she teased. "Rough night last night?"

"Shit, do I look that bad?"

"Greg, I don't think there's a universe where you would ever look bad. Bit haggard round the edges. Besides, the dogs don't care what you look like as long as you've got food, toys or a lead in your hand." Alison replied crisply. She shoved a dog bowl filled with food towards him.

"That's for Russell. I heard you two hit it off. He'll be pleased to see you."

"Vet seen him yet?" Greg asked, picking up the bowl.

"He'll be in shortly. Got held up in surgery. He'll probably be here after we've done the walks."

Greg nodded and took the bowl into the kennels where Russell was curled up on his bed looking woeful.

"You really know how to put on the puppy dog eyes, mate, don't you?" Greg said with a smile. At the sound of his voice Russell's ears pricked up and he trotted over to where Greg was standing, his tail wagging nineteen to the dozen. He sat, tail thumping on the floor, till Greg placed the bowl beside him then dived in, emptying it with eye watering speed, all the time watching in case anyone tried to steal it.

Greg scratched him behind the ears and was rewarded with a broad lick from the dog's tongue.

"Good lad. I'll just go and help with the washing up and then I'll come back and take you for a walk, okay?"

Russell's head drooped as Greg closed the kennel door again but he kept his vigil by the door until he saw Greg walking back towards him some time later.

"Come on, mate. Let's get you some exercise, what do you say?" Greg asked as he clipped the lead on to Russell's collar and guided him out of the kennels into the big field behind. Russell had a great time investigating all the new smells and sights, munching on grass and taking a minute to have a really good roll in the field. 

Greg kept him on the long lead, observing everything, watching for lameness or signs of discomfort but there were none. Russell even greeted Sophie, a famously-nervous whippet, appropriately, earning him a 'good boy!' from Greg.

The arrival of the vet curtailed their adventures but Greg escorted Russell, the dog plastered to Greg's leg and whimpering with nerves, into the makeshift exam room.

Diana caught up with Greg as he led Russell back to the kennel.

"What's the verdict?" she asked nervously.

"Well, he hasn't been microchipped. He's underweight, which we suspected. He needs an operation to have some teeth out but apart from that, he's pretty healthy. Vet says to ring him in a day or two to sort out the details." Greg informed her.

"Not as bad as we feared then," said Diana briskly, reaching down to pat a panting Russell. "Beautiful boy. We're going to find you a lovely new home. Thank you, Greg. He's a different dog with just the tiniest bit of kindness. I hope you can come often, he seems to really like you."

"I'll be here when I can," Greg promised. "While I'm here, I'll give a couple of the others a good run around the field. I'll take Bentley and Socks, they love a good old scratch around outside."

Bentley and Socks were two dogs of indeterminate breed but they loved playing together and Greg couldn't help but smile as he watched them chase each other around the field. Every so often Greg would throw a tennis ball for them and have a silent bet to himself as to which one would get to it first. Socks was winning for the moment, but it was a close-run thing.

An hour later, worn out with their exertions, Greg leashed the pair of them and took them back to their respective kennels situated side by side.

Greg washed his hands and left the kennels, thinking about grabbing a sandwich somewhere when he realised there was an extra car in the carpark. A long, black, heartstoppingly familiar car.

As if on cue, the door opened and Mycroft got out, looking for all the world as though he had just stepped out of the pages of a lifestyle magazine. Gone was the three-piece suit to be replaced by elegantly cut casual trousers and a cashmere jumper in a shade that made the blue of his eyes shine like cornflowers.

"Hello, Gregory. Forgive my presumption but I knew you would be here today." Mycroft looked nervous, as if unsure of his welcome.

"Hello Mycroft. What a lovely surprise," said Greg with a smile.

Mycroft visibly relaxed and closed the distance between them.

"I wondered if the vet had seen our new arrival yet? You seemed most concerned about him last night."

"Yeah, he's going to be fine. Needs some dental work and feeding up but he'll be okay," Greg replied.

"May I see him?" Mycroft asked.

"Yeah, of course. He's through here. He's a bit shy, mind you. Don't be offended if he hides from you."

"Wouldn't even consider it," said Mycroft, falling into step with Greg.

"When we are done here, I wondered if you might like to join me for lunch. It's such a beautiful day I thought you might enjoy a picnic." suggested Mycroft.

"That'll be really nice," said Greg enthusiastically. "I haven't been on a picnic since I was in the Scouts. I assume you've brought a bit more than jam sandwiches and flat pop?"

Mycroft laughed and Greg joined in, something warm and wonderful blossoming in his chest.

"Undoubtedly. I would be having a stiff word with Harrods if that was what they supplied in their hampers."

Greg instinctively knew that if there was the slightest thing out of place, the customer service person would be asked to explain themselves. At length. In the Tower of London. It had been a very long time since Greg had felt so cared for and he had to admit, it was a wonderful feeling.

"I bet you would," he said aloud. "Poor bloke. Anyway, here he is."

They had arrived at Russell's kennel and Mycroft noticed how happy the dog appeared to see Greg, Russell standing on his hind legs with his tail going into overdrive.

"What a handsome fellow!" Mycroft exclaimed, kneeling down without a thought and extending his hand for Russell to sniff. To Greg's amazement, Russell nuzzled Mycroft's hand then rolled onto his back expecting a belly rub which Mycroft was more than happy to provide.

"Who's a good boy? Oh, you are absolutely lovely!" Mycroft murmured, rubbing and patting the dark brindled fur. 

As he watched, Greg felt himself fall a bit more in love. Mycroft Holmes might run the known world but there was something incredibly special about a man who loved dogs as much as that.

They stayed and played with Russell for a while before returning to the car where Mycroft instructed his driver to take them to Regent's Park.

"Not St. James's?" Greg asked with a smile.

"Perish the thought," said Mycroft. "It'll be full of politicians and civil servants on a day like today. Rather like a bus man's holiday for me. Besides, I have no intention of having my attention to you being diverted in any way, Gregory."

Greg took Mycroft's hand and smiled.

"I like that idea."

"It may not always be the way of things in the future, not with the careers both of us have chosen but I will try my best." Mycroft said with a divine smile.

That could have sounded  _ very _ long-term but Greg didn't feel remotely disturbed by that.

"Me too. As long as we're trying, I'll do my best and not let murder and mayhem get in the way of our good times."

"Perfectly acceptable. I believe we are nearing our destination." Mycroft said.

It was a day of wonderful firsts, finding a parking space to begin with; then the most delicious picnic Greg could ever imagine washed down with fine quality Buck's Fizz.

Greg wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and lay back on the thick tartan rug.

"I'm stuffed." he groaned.

Mycroft smiled indulgently and began packing away the remnants of their meal. He and Greg were by no means the only ones inspired to have a picnic that day but no one, in Mycroft's opinion, had as mesmerising a companion as he had in the Inspector. 

"Mycroft, leave that and relax for a bit," insisted Greg, patting the rug beside him. Mycroft obliged, stretching out his long legs and turning his face to the sun, his hand clutching Greg's warmly.

"This has been the perfect day," said Greg with a contented sigh, propping himself up on an elbow to grin at his companion. 

"It has," Mycroft agreed, returning the grin. "Yet it is not over yet. Not unless you want it to be, Gregory."

"No," said Greg, all levity leaving his face. "I never want this day to end. Let's not let it, eh?"

"A sterling idea. May I kiss you while we contemplate how to spend the rest of it?"

"Yes you may," replied Greg, moving closer and taking Mycroft in his arms, savouring the warm brush of Mycroft's lips against his and the long,lean feel of Mycroft pressed against him. As the kiss deepened Greg felt something tender and warm nestle in his heart and he knew then there was nowhere else he would rather be in the whole world.

*

_ Two Months Later _

Diana Trescothick prided herself on rarely getting too emotionally involved with her charges but Russell was a special case and today he was going to his forever home so she allowed her eyes to moisten a bit.

The sound of a car pulling into the car park got her out of the office and waiting in the reception area with a big smile on her face.

As she suspected, Greg was first through the door with Mycroft following sedately behind.

"He's ready for you," said Diana, smiling at their obvious enthusiasm. "I'll just go and get him."

She returned quickly with Russell who, when he spotted Greg and Mycroft, almost pulled her off her feet in his eagerness to get to them and bestow indiscriminate kisses on both as he was so happy to see them.

"Hey, Russell," said Greg. "Ready for your ride home, mate?"

"Woof!"

"That's a yes if ever I heard one," chuckled Mycroft. "Come along, Russell. We are eager to get you settled into our home. I think you'll like your new bed and Gregory has purchased a whole boxful of toys for you. Shall we?"

Greg watched as Mycroft led Russell out of the door and paused only to hug Diana gratefully.

"I can't tell you how excited we are to take him home," said Greg. "Thank you for giving us the chance."

"I doubt he would have been happy with anyone else. Take care, Greg. Enjoy your time with your new family."

"Oh, I'm going to," said Greg enthusiastically. "Every day for as long as I can. And if Mycroft says yes tonight, it'll be every day for the rest of my life."

And with that, Greg left to join his family in a brand new chapter.

  
  


The End.

  
  



End file.
